


Maybe it really is the end

by 60r3d0m



Series: Season 15 Coda Collection [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode: s15e01 Back and to the Future, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 15, Sharing Clothes, belphegor offers them some counselling, they're married but they just don't know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 09:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21052508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/60r3d0m/pseuds/60r3d0m
Summary: “What?” Belphegor drawls. “You don’t like me, too?”When Dean doesn’t answer, Belphegor smiles, a toothy grin that brings back memories of Jack in waves.“Or maybe, Dean, you like somebody else.”Coda to 15.01





	Maybe it really is the end

**Author's Note:**

> oof I started writing codas four years ago and I can't believe this is the last time I'll be doing that
> 
> took me a million years (thanks depression) but here is one for the premiere <3 it's maybe the messiest one i've ever written, but hey, there's no one messier than these two
> 
> -
> 
> warning: there's some brief non-con touching between Belphegor and Cas (Belphegor places his hand on Cas' face while trying to get Dean riled up) + a brief line Belphegor torturing souls in Hell
> 
> also there's a bit of an obscure reference in this fic about cas' marriage to a djinn queen; cas claims he's married to her in s13e16 scoobynatural.

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

Dean doesn’t waste a second.

_Good,_ he says and he turns his back to Cas.

Maybe because God is a vengeful bastard intent on conspiring against them, the Impala takes her last shuddering breath deep in the woods on a winding dirt path that promises to lead nowhere.

Dean pleads with her, caresses Baby’s wheel and gently coaxes her engine even as she slowly rolls to a stop. Under the stars, she gleams as if she’s still alive. But by the way Dean’s face contorts with grief, Cas knows that it’s at last time to say goodbye.

“Hey, asshole!” Dean shouts, picks up the heaviest thing he can find and aims it at the night sky, as if he might be able to make a dent into heaven itself. “Come down here instead of playing games, you son of a bitch.”

If God hears him, he doesn’t answer.

Dean’s rock hits an elderly pine and bounces off to break Baby’s side mirror.

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

It’s not that Dean gives up—for hours, he tries reviving Baby—but between Sam’s ever growing exhaustion from the bullet embedded in his flesh and Jack’s—no, _Belphegor’s_—snide comments, even Dean eventually admits defeat.

Cas thinks that Dean will toss him out for the night—it’s only the brothers who need sleep and things between Dean and he…are not good. Sam passes out in the backseat, a light fever from his wound all that it takes for Dean to declare that Sam gets dibs on that half of the Impala. But despite his ire, Dean doesn’t protest when Cas slides up next to him—it’s only when Belphegor shoves his way in from the driver’s side that Dean grits his teeth.

Trapped between an angel and a demon, Dean instinctively shifts closer to Cas.

Then he pulls out his phone to avoid looking at him.

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

Belphegor is one of those people who becomes uncomfortable as soon as he encounters silence so it’s no surprise when he starts talking a minute later.

“On Grindr, Dean? Got an itch to scratch? I don’t blame you. You’re pretty hot, you kn—”

Beside him, Dean stiffens, shifts even closer until their thighs press together. Cas has the urge to reach out and take Dean’s hand, finds that his chest is aching, finds that he can barely breathe when Jack’s innocent face is staring at him with such fiendish eyes.

But that would be foolish.

So he does nothing.

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

“I’m not on Grindr, asshat,” Dean says a moment later. “You think I got a connection here in Bumfuck, Nowhere?”

Belphegor throws up his hands.

“Sure, Dean, I believe you.”

But the goading smile that twists his lips suggests otherwise.

For about thirty seconds, it’s quiet again. For thirty long ticks of the clock, they sit there, looking out onto the road as the moonlight spills through the abyss of trees that stretch out before them. Cas wishes earnestly that he had his wings, that he could take them away from this awful place, from this world that God’s set up like a game from the very beginning. But as if to remind them that nothing’s fair, Belphegor opens his insufferable mouth again.

“Y”know, Dean, I really like you.”

Belphegor twists in Baby’s seat, stretches his legs out until they’re resting across Dean’s thighs, feet settling into Cas’ lap. Dean snarls and shoves at the offending appendages but Belphegor might as well be made of stone—he doesn’t budge.

“What?” Belphegor drawls. “You don’t like me, too?”

When Dean doesn’t answer, Belphegor smiles, a toothy grin that brings back memories of Jack in waves.

“Or maybe, Dean, you like somebody else.”

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

Something about Belphegor’s words makes Dean snap.

“Get out of my car,” Dean says and Belphegor defiantly crosses his arms.

“Make me.”

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

“Y’know, Dean, back in my time, humans like you used to summon me for guidance. See, I, uh, spent a good deal of time here on Earth. Maybe I could help you.” Belphegor cocks his head. “Want me to save your troubled marriage?”

"Yeah, because Grindr's from your time, you fucking liar. You've been roaming Earth a lot longer than you're telling us."

At Dean's comment, Belphegor remains unfazed.

"Tell me, Dean, is it your sex life? The angel not putting out?"

When Dean refuses to answer, Belphegor’s eyes flick to Cas.

“And what about you, Castiel? Am I right? Is there trouble in paradise?”

Cas shifts in his seat. He looks out the window, combatting the desire to be anywhere but Baby’s interior. He laces his fingers together. At his side, Dean clenches his jaw.

“Heaven has always been in a state of constant upheav—”

Belphegor rolls his eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh come on, Castiel. You know what I mean. Tell me, how soon can we expect the divorce?”

Cas tries one last time.

“I have no intention of divorcing the Djinn queen.”

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

Maybe Belphegor just runs out of things to say because when Cas refutes him a second time, he doesn’t try to pick up the conversation—things just become quiet.

Or maybe that’s just Cas’ fantasy because another fifteen minutes later, the demon starts up again.

“Y’know, I think I was a little distracted by Dean, but uh, you’re gorgeous, too, Cas—can I call you that? _Cas_? I mean…_he_ does.”

Belphegor withdraws his feet from Dean’s lap, instead sits cross-legged and watches him with a smug smile. He reaches across Dean, cups Cas’ face and strokes his jaw.

“Y’know, I’ve always had a thing for angels. In hell, I used to dream about getting an angel on my rack, carving it up, making it scream. But Cas, you’re so pretty—I’d love to make you scream another way. Hell, you’re already _quivering_, baby.”

Belphegor grins, starts moving ever so closer, as if he intends to kiss him. Cas should smite the creature before him, should turn its body to dust, but it’s _Jack’s_ fingers that are clasping his face—it’s _Jack’s_ body and Cas thinks that he would rather let the demon do what it wishes with him, if it means that he can lay his son to rest.

But in the end, it’s Dean’s hand that closes around Belphegor’s throat.

“Don’t touch him,” Dean hisses. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

Belphegor laughs.

"C'mon, Dean, Cas is aching for a kiss. Unless..._you've_ got something to offer?"

For a moment, Dean's hand wavers. His hold on Belphegor loosens and Belphegor uses it as an opportunity to caress Cas' jaw, move just a little bit closer.

But that's all it takes for Dean to bring his demon-killing blade to Belphegor's neck. Belphegor chuckles, then shrugs and drops his hand from Cas’ face.

“I get it, Dean,” he says and he opens the Impala’s door, setting one foot outside. “He’s _yours_.”

Belphegor salutes them, lifts his sunglasses to reveal the spot where Jack's eyes used to be. "Better take care of your angel before someone else does."

Dean doesn’t say anything.

But he doesn’t let go of Ruby’s knife until Belphegor disappears.

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

Somehow without the demon, it’s even more suffocating.

Sam stirs in his sleep.

Dean pushes away from Cas, goes as far as the front seat will allow him now that Belphegor’s gone.

For a long time, Dean stares out the window.

Then, “You okay?” he asks.

_You good?_

_Yes, but—_

_but—_

_but**—**_

This time, Cas thinks that he won’t answer.

Cas thinks that he’ll let things be, that he’ll keep quiet and let Dean stew in his anger because isn’t that just what they _do_?

But maybe Cas is tired of that.

So, “No,” Cas says. “I’m not okay.”

Dean doesn’t do anything.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask Cas why he’s not okay, and Cas thinks that maybe he’s made the wrong choice.

After a minute, Dean opens Baby’s door and steps out.

The door slams shut.

Maybe it really is the end.

Dean comes back an hour later.

Dean opens the door, grabs Cas’ arm and hauls him out.

Or at least Dean tries to.

Cas has spent so many years letting Dean manipulate his body that for a moment, he remains tense. For a moment, he forgets to ease up, forgets to play the gentle creature that Sam and Dean are accustomed to, and perhaps it is stubbornness on his part, but he stays where he is.

At that, Dean’s fingers go lax. Dean takes a step back, as if only now he’s remembering that Cas is an _angel_, that Cas could squash him like a bug at a moment’s notice.

Dean swallows.

Dean looks at him and then extends his hand.

“Come with me,” he says and because he looks so damn broken, Cas goes.

It’s the last thing that Cas would expect to find in the middle of nowhere but five minutes out from the Impala, the pine trees break away to reveal a large lake, its calm waters gently lapping against well-worn sand. Maybe they’re not as far from civilization as they thought because there’s a small dock and that’s where Dean sits down, legs dangling off the edge.

Cas doesn’t ask how he found it.

For a few moments, they’re there, almost in companionable silence, as if nothing’s wrong. But then Dean exhales, a heavy exhausted breath that brings the weight of the world crashing down on their shoulders and Cas knows that whatever Dean has to say, it will only add more.

“Why didn’t you stop him? Damn it, Cas, why’d you let Belphegor touch you like that?”

Cas curls his fists. The anger that surges in his chest feels inexhaustible.

“You’re not my wife, Dean. It’s none of your business.”

“Yeah, no, that’s the fucking Djinn queen who you still haven’t divor—”

Dean breaks off. A small sound erupts from his throat, strangled, half-formed, just barely finishing the word—_divorced. _And then, when Cas thinks that maybe the best thing to do is leave, Dean starts up again, a shaky, shaky voice that makes Cas crumble from the inside-out.

“Why aren’t you okay, Cas? I—I _need_ you to be okay.”

Cas opens his mouth. Cas opens it and takes a gulping breath, doesn’t know when breathing became so essential to him, but now he finds that he’s gasping, finds that there’s something wet at the corner of his eyes and if he’s not careful, it might bleed down to his cheeks.

Angels don't cry—Cas knows that.

But something is giving way in his shoulders.

It feels almost certain that it’s been years or decades since they’ve been sitting on this dock, the breeze rustling their hair, the dock gliding, becoming just a little more lopsided on the water, but it hasn't been a decade_—_only seconds_—_so Cas swallows the ball in his throat and says, “It’s everything, Dean. It’s _everything_.

"It's Jack. It's Mary. It's God.

"It's _you._

"And I'm tired of pretending that it isn't. I'm tired of pretending that a demon isn't wearing my son's face. I'm tired of pretending that you aren't blaming me for your mother's death. I'm tired of my father. And you—Dean,your stubbornness. Pretending that you don't love me."

Dean flinches as if he's been hit.

"I've never pretended that I don't love you."

But, "You do," Cas says. "Damn it, Dean, you _do._"

The kiss is sudden.

There's maybe a second that passes before Dean's darting forward, one hand clasping Cas' cheek, emanating a warmth so unlike Belphegor's clammy hands. Dean almost misses altogether—Dean's nose collides with his, Dean's stubbled chin burns Cas' cheek and it's only the corner of Cas' mouth that Dean catches. It's messy and awkward and desperate and when Dean pulls away, they're both gasping for breath.

"I do love you," Dean says, a perceptible tremor in his voice that threatens to break apart his words. "Don't you dare question it again." 

Dean's halfway down the dock before Cas realizes that he's _leaving._ Dean's stumbling away, swaying, one hand running over his face as if he can barely believe what he's done, as if he _regrets_ it.

So, hands curled into fists, "I don't believe you," Cas says and Dean stops in his tracks.

Maybe once upon a time, Cas would've left things as they were. So many times, Cas has done that.

But maybe it's all of these things piling up. Maybe it's the thousands of versions of Dean that Naomi once had him kill—something that he never told him—or maybe it's Dean giving him a mixtape without explaining why, but Cas is tired of the things unsaid between them.

So, with more righteous fury than he's felt in a long time, Cas says, "Come back, you assbutt." 

This time when Dean kisses him, he doesn't miss. There's something salty mixed in with the taste of him, maybe tears, maybe the bitterness of their whole shitty situation. Dean doesn't waste a second—there are no pauses for breaths. Dean springs forth and plasters sloppy kisses to Cas' mouth, to Cas' temple, to Cas' ear. Murmurs _I do love you,_ voice hoarse, voice breaking like a dying man,and then, _Do you believe me now? _and Cas says, _Maybe, _until Dean slides his hand beneath his shirt and Cas gasps, _Yes._

Dean holds him, digs his nails into his back, clutches him as if he thinks he's going to lose him. Says, _Cas, come here, _says, _Cas, I need you,_ pulls him as close as he can get, chest to chest. There's something about it all—_love, _Cas thinks—that has Dean burying his face into the crook of Cas' neck, cradling the back of Cas' head and for a moment—just for a moment—they sway together, basking in the present instead of fearing the future.

But maybe the only reason Dean kisses so desperately is because he thinks this is _it._

Dean staggers back, runs his hand across his mouth and says, "I'm sorry."

He's leaving again. 

"I'm scared, alright?" Dean says. "I'm fucking terrified. I'm not good enough for you. I'm not good enough, Cas, and I don't wanna drag you down with me. I don't—I ruin everything I touch. Cas, I can't—and what if—what if it's all a game, huh? To Chuck? What if he—_did _this? What if we're not..."

Dean bows his head, covers his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says again and his voice breaks.

Cas doesn't let him go.

Cas grabs him by the collar of his shirt, pins him up against the nearest tree, and Dean stares at him, lips quivering, breath fogging in the night air, the moon a silent bystander to all their chaos.

"No," Cas says and Dean looks at him as if he desperately wants to believe it. "God wants us to be unhappy, Dean—there is no greater way to defy him than to love each other."

Maybe Dean's tired, too—maybe just as much as Cas feels it.

His shoulders slump and he hits the ground and Cas goes tumbling with him.

"You don't have to do this alone, Dean," Cas tells him, wraps his arms around him, and to his relief, Dean lets himself be held, buries his face against Cas' chest and goes still. "I'll protect you."

Dean swallows. Dean swallows, clutches Cas' shirt like a lifeline, and then, when their fingers are finally entwined, Dean exhales as if, for the first time in his life, he's finally breathing.

Then, quietly, "I got you, too, you know."

It should be ludicrous, a human protecting an _angel, _a little bird chasing after a comet, but Cas smiles and says, "I know."

They stay like that together, watch the dock from afar, the rolling water along its edges. When the night grows long, Cas pulls off his coat, wraps it around Dean.

"Sleep," he tells him. "I'll watch over you."

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S CHEESY!! but in my defence, it's also the last season :P
> 
> Feedback/kudos are always appreciated, and if you'd like, you can visit me at my shiny new Tumblr url [here](http://pray4jensen.tumblr.com) where I'll also be writing some codas and fics this year <3 For codas that appear on Tumblr, I'm making a tag list, so if you'd like to be on it, feel free to drop me a message over there!
> 
> Anyway, thank you bunches for reading! <3 Fingers crossed that this is the season where Dean and Cas finally smooch!


End file.
